Life Insurance
by Drew Demeter 2
Summary: Smaug Enterprises has presided over the world of finance with an iron fist and little competition. That is, until Durin Trust takes on a part-time fraud investigator, part-time double agent: Bilbo Baggins. An adventure of insurance agencies, multiple identities, and romance with the enemy. MODERN AU
1. Chapter 1

**Author: **Drew Demeter 2

**Pairings: **Kili/Tauriel, Fili/OC, others may be added at a later time

**Rating: **T for now, perhaps M in later chapters

**Summary: **Smaug Enterprises has presided over the world of finance with an iron fist and little competition. That is, until Durin Trust takes on a part-time fraud investigator, part-time double agent: Bilbo Baggins.

**Warnings: **probably language, maybe some violence and sexual-ness

**Disclaimer: **As is known, I do not own the Hobbit or any of the characters, scenes, or scenarios recognized.

**1**

_ He grinned to himself as he surveyed the scene from his round dormer windows. His sleepy little village, just a couple of train stops out of London, was just waking up for the morning. A couple of kids chattered as they skipped towards the bus stop, and the postman offered a kind word or two to old Mr. Took, who lived at the end of the block. Ahh, normality. He couldn't get enough of it._

"Mr. Baggins!"

Bilbo's scruffy head shot off the table with enough force to generate a small headache. Eyes bleary with exhaustion, he glanced half-heartedly at the face that disturbed his slumber.

"Morning, Gandalf."

The man smiled knowingly at his young friend, who had seemingly passed out on the kitchen table the night before. Poor Baggins. He had been up around the clock for the past week investigating the shifty insurance claim of one Miss Ellen Fitzherbert. She claimed to have broken all of her ribs, along with an arm, in a skiing accident. Naturally, Bilbo was assigned the job.

"Remind me how you convinced me to come out here," Bilbo groaned, gratefully accepting the full-to-brimming coffee mug offered. The dream was still fresh in his memory, recalling once again just how much he missed living in Shireton.

Gandalf snorted. "You were wasting away in that silly little village. It's my opinion that a man with a good degree to his name should _not _be twiddling his thumbs in the comfort of his own home while others get the real work done."

"It was cozy there!" Bilbo protested. This was an argument they had often. Luckily, it lost its seriousness with time.

"Yes. That is precisely the problem. You see, my friend: live inside your comfort zone for too long, and you forget the rest of the world goes on right outside your door."

"Old man," Bilbo mocked, his playful tone not lost on Gandalf.

"I happen to believe _you_, Bilbo Baggins, are the real old man here."

Bilbo scoffed, shuffling off to his room to get dressed for work. Without Gandalf, he would probably be jobless and homeless, all alone in London.

Six months ago, the older man had shown up at Bilbo's door. Gandalf had known Bilbo's father Bungo in their childhood years, being a couple years older than the Baggins senior. He'd sat right there, silhouetted in one of the dormer windows, and explained his predicament: naturally, to take down one of the largest insurance companies east of the Atlantic. Bilbo had definitely been skeptical, and most uncomfortable about leaving Shireton, but he figured his father would never forgive him for turning away a friend.

As usual, Gandalf led the way through a bustling street to their equally crowded tube stop. Bilbo had forever been absolutely useless with directions, and wondered how long it would be until he could make it to the office alone.

Durin Trust insurance agency was located just two short stops from Gandalf's apartment, where Bilbo was crashing until he made enough money to rent his own place. The salary was meager, even his bosses could admit that. Especially considering the usually complex jobs Bilbo had had the pleasure of completing. Exaggerated insurance claims, stolen identities… the list was long, and Bilbo was loath to remember it.

"Have you got the follow-up papers with you?" Gandalf checked for the fourth time. Bilbo nodded, stifling an urge to roll his eyes.

"Of course. I'm not one to leave a job unfinished." It was true. Bilbo breezed through high school, college, and an assortment of short-lived jobs because of this characteristic.

Gandalf smiled, his eyes crinkling warmly. "I know, my boy. Come, this is our stop."

The two exited the busy train, pushed and pulled through the rip current of other passengers. Eventually, they found their way up the stairs and back into the crisp air of London in the autumn.

The office wasn't in the most photogenic part of town. Wedged in between a quick mart and a clothing outlet, Durin Trust occupied an entire building, albeit very narrow, to itself, and its workers had attempted to lighten the place up with large signs and welcoming flower boxes. Bilbo pushed the door open, met with the usual sea of unused cubicles.

It was strange, to take in this scene and imagine the office in its days of splendor. According to Gandalf, there was a time when Durin Trust had a spacious office on Oxford Street, over a hundred qualified insurance agents in its employment, and hefty paychecks to boot. With a reputation for honest deals and friendly employees, the company had prospered for almost three generations before disaster struck in the form of Draco Smaug.

He was almost never referred to by his first name – not in this office, anyway. But everyone knew it regardless, just as well as they recognized his thin, lizard-like face, complete with two light green eyes, a shade away from being classified as yellow. He was a slimy man, the kind who never played by the rules, but somehow his business had made it to the top, while Durin Trust had plummeted.

"Baggins!" Came a screech from one of the single offices, almost before Bilbo had made it through the front door. The man in question shrugged off his coat, exchanging an exasperated look with Gandalf.

"Shall I come to collect you at four o'clock?" The old man inquired. Bilbo nodded distractedly, wondering what he had possibly screwed up this time. Meanwhile, the yelling continued in the office, getting louder and more irritated by the millisecond.

"Coming!" he shouted back, offering Gandalf a parting wave as the tip of his long beard disappeared from sight.

It was fairly early in the morning – the rest of the office was undoubtedly curled up in their warm beds, not expected to work for another hour. For whatever reason, Mr. Oakenshield insisted that Bilbo come in early to go over the Fitzherbert notes.

Mr. Oakenshield faced the window, looking out onto a dreary and overcast sky when Bilbo finally made an appearance in the doorway. "You brought your papers?" he asked by way of introduction.

"Yes." He patted his briefcase reassuringly. His boss finally turned to face him, and Bilbo noticed with disdain that his expression precisely matched the weather outside.

"Well, don't just stand there, Baggins," Thorin barked, running a hand through his rather long hair. Strands of gray had begun to intertwine with the black, giving Thorin the appearance of being older than he actually was. As usual, the man dressed in dark colors, the top button of his shirt undone.

"Right." With a few impatient tugs, Bilbo managed to free the papers from their tidy folder. He handed them over at once.

Thorin rifled through the forms for a few minutes, oblivious to the nervous expression on his employee's face. Finally, he glanced up, his bushy eyebrows knit together in a way that definitely boded ill.

"Look here, Baggins –" another loud slamming of the front door cut Thorin off mid-sentence, something Bilbo couldn't say he was sorry about. The noise was accompanied seconds later by the patter of heavy footfalls.

"Morning, Uncle!" Thorin's young nephews Fili and Kili were two of the more energetic personalities of Durin Trust. Fili was twenty-seven, and had been working at the firm for five years as an insurance agent. Already he showed remarkable promise, though not unexpected given the professions of both his uncle and his late father. Kili, fresh out of college, was almost newer to the business than Bilbo was, and thus had spent the week following Bilbo and his brother around like a lost puppy.

"Hi Bilbo." Kili acknowledged his friend with a large smile. Bilbo returned the gesture, putting away his exhaustion for the time being. The nephews of Thorin Oakenshield were two of the few perks in his job.

"You look awful, mate," Fili added, munching on a pastry of some sort. Like his uncle and brother, the man's hair length teetered on the precarious edge between homeless and attractive. Unlike his family members, Fili was blonde.

"Thanks," Bilbo responded sarcastically, wishing he had time for another cup of coffee before work. "That's the kind of thing that belongs in a card."

Fili shrugged, turning to his uncle. "Thorin, I have an appointment with a potential customer this morning at ten. Single mother with a teenaged son, recent car accident. You know the type."

Thorin looked thoroughly unimpressed. It was too early in the morning to worry about customers.

Kili snorted. "Don't meet them here, Fili. We want to look genuine, not sleazy, and I fear this neighborhood's reputation is _not _promising. Remember Mr. Douglas?"

The rest of the room sighed collectively. Mr. Douglas was one of those cases that could have made it into the history books. Unfortunately, he'd transferred to Smaug Enterprises following the infamous meeting.

"Your brother's right," Thorin stated, twisting one of his moustaches. "You could meet at Lime, if it were freshened up." He glanced at the clock on the wall. Just past seven thirty.

"I'll go," Bilbo volunteered weakly. He recalled the mentions of a small office on Lime Street, used mainly by the firm's agents as an attractive meeting place for clients. There hadn't been a new customer since Bilbo had taken a job; therefore the room hadn't been used in months.

Thorin studied his newest fraud investigator with a critical eye. "Very well," he said, pushing the Fitzherbert papers aside. "I suppose we can discuss your pitiful notes at a future date."

Bilbo bristled with the insult. He happened to believe those notes were spot-on, thank you very much.

"Sir, don't you think –" he began.

"I'll go with you," Kili interrupted, casting a glance around the drab office. Fili sighed.

"Don't you have work to do?" he asked pointedly. The younger simply shrugged, smirking in that cheeky way of his that was bound to get him into serious trouble one day.

"I always have work to do," he called, following Bilbo towards the door. "But there's always more time to do it."

Twenty minutes of confusion later, Bilbo and Kili stood on stately Lime Street, glancing up and down the row of buildings uncertainly.

"It has to be one of these," Kili muttered under his breath, eyes screwed up in concentration.

"Don't tell me you've never been here before," Bilbo groaned.

"I assumed this street would be smaller!"

Bilbo gaped. "You've never been on _this street _before? How long have you lived in London again?"

Kili looked sheepish. "I don't get out much."

The older man took one look at his friend and laughed. _Yeah, sure._

"Well, this was a wasted trip." _And a wasted three pounds, _Bilbo grumbled quietly to himself. These tube tickets weren't cheap.

Kili took out his cellphone, sliding a finger across the screen to unlock it. Why he needed such a fancy device for making simple phone calls was lost on Bilbo.

"Should we try the office?" Kili looked positively green at the thought. Bilbo quickly shook his head.

"Only in the worst-case scenario." Thorin would have a field day if he found out about this latest blunder on Bilbo's part.

Kili nodded. "Okay… how about Balin? He's bound to have been to this office before. He knows the Trust almost as well as Thorin."

Bilbo didn't know Balin all that well, but the man seemed likeable enough, and spouted off the occasional story about Thorin's youth that sent the others into peals of laughter. Mr. Oakenshield had been a strange child.

He nodded to the phone. "Go ahead. I'm going to go up this street a bit for a look around."

Lime Street was almost uncomfortably modern. The buildings were mainly skyscrapers, full of windows that looked like little holes from the ground. Bilbo craned his neck back in awe. They didn't have these in Shireton, and he regarded each with a mixture of wonder and fear. What was to stop them falling, crushing the busy streets below under their majesty?

He took a step forward, walking face-first into a man in a dark suit and tie.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" The man turned to look at him in annoyance. The first thing Bilbo noticed were his eyes; light green, shockingly so. Was this color to be found in the spectrum? The stare was so intense he found himself backing away from the stranger.

"I- I'm sorry," he stuttered once again. The man looked him over, his lips curling into a thin, snaking line.

"Try to be more careful, young man," he said in a deep voice, despite the fact that Bilbo was around the same age. With a final straightening of his tie, he was gone, walking at a leisurely fast pace.

Someone shook him. A shock of longish dark hair clouded his line of vision.

"Bilbo? Are you alright?" It was Kili. His phone dangled in his left hand, forgotten for the time being. His face had gone white: the boy was obviously shaken by something.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Bilbo asked. He found he was able to tear his thoughts from the strange man, who was by now a blur in the distance.

"I saw everything. What… Bilbo. Was the anything in your pocket?"

Bilbo shook his head. "I don't think so. Just the keys to my apartment." His eyes widened with the realization, a hand fumbling in his jacket pocket for something, any sign the key had not left its place.

"Not there," Kili muttered. Bilbo's empty hands confirmed his statement..

"You saw, didn't you?" he asked. The younger man nodded seriously.

"Yes. I saw everything."

"Do you know who that is?"

Kili pressed his lips together, nodding reluctantly.

"It looks like you were just pick-pocketed by Draco Smaug."

* * *

**A/N: Hello readers! This is my first Hobbit-related story, as well as my first crack at writing a Modern AU... if any of you are familiar with the workings of an insurance company, I'm sorry for my woeful descriptions... it was all I could find through a couple hours of research. If you have any suggestions, please don't hesitate to leave a review or PM me.**

**Speaking of, please review if you have the time! I hate to be one of ****_these _****people, but one starting a new story it's important to know that people are interested in what you're writing... it keeps me going!**

**-Drew**


	2. Chapter 2

**2**

Draco Smaug was having a bad day.

It started this morning with a noticeable drop in stock profits for the company. Stuck in a terrible mood, he proceeded to crash his car into someone's hunk of trash at an intersection, leading to two tickets that had to be paid off by the end of the week. And now, to top it all off, his secretary botched his cappuccino, leaving a sorry cup of cold milk on the edge of his desk.

"Victoria!" he called down the hallway, not sure how much more bad news one could handle in a day. His shout was answered by the sound of clipped heels as his favorite agent made her way to his spacious private office.

"Mr. Smaug, I trust everything is all right?" At least he had a nice view from his desk chair. The girl was young and relatively nice to look at – two of the scant reasons that set her apart from the other hopefuls who gathered nervously in his office two months ago, knowing full well how thin their chances were of making it in the world of big-city finance. She'd attended college in the States, and still carried a trace of that accent when she spoke certain words.

"How are we coming with Barker?" he asked, noting the way she fidgeted slightly in his presence. Christian Barker, a notable and quite wealthy shareholder in Smaug Enterprises, had recently threatened to leave the company, worried that he was being cheated out of his fair share. Victoria and a few of the others in the finance and accounting department had pulled out all the stops to insure he_ never_ left.

"It's finished. We contacted him this morning, and he's agreed not only to continue being a shareholder, but to invest more in the future." She eyed him with a hopeful expression, one that he internally scoffed at. Did she expect a pat on the head for doing her job?

"Very good. Now, would you be so kind as to close the door? We need to discuss a more…. _pressing _issue." At once, the girl shut the fogged glass doors that separated Smaug from his multitudes of employees, taking a seat in the plump chair across from him when she was finished. She wasn't overly dramatic about their exchanges, something he admired in her.

"What have you been able to dig up for me this week, Miss Applegate?" Smaug folded his hands across his desk nonthreateningly.

She sighed. "Not much. Since we've rigged the security cameras, the only other step we can take is to somehow find audio for the place. Are you _sure _this is legal?"

"Of course," Smaug answered. Of course it wasn't. But what Draco Smaug did rarely was.

Victoria offered him a hesitant smile. "The video is grainy, but I can still make out the relative shapes of people. Mr. Oakenshield doesn't leave his private office, and the footage from there is such poor quality it's basically useless. All of the employees you mentioned have been accounted for at some point during the last forty-eight hours or so – that's as far as I'd gotten."

He couldn't help a small grin from spreading across his face. Smaug had been monitoring Durin Trust for some time now. It was ten years since he singlehandedly ruined that company; he was always on the lookout for scams, but somehow this year he felt less secure.

Therefore, the IT guys, with a couple of low-lifes from other departments, had set to work – in secret of course – making not only Smaug's office a safer place, but also making sure the Durin people were behaving themselves over on Shakleton Street. So far, it had been rapid success: just the thing to lift his mood.

"I _did _see someone else in the footage," Victoria was saying. Smaug snapped himself out of his daydreams and nodded at her to go on. "I don't think he's a customer."

Smaug frowned. This was upsetting news.

"Can you get me a profile immediately?" He knew his request was somewhat unreasonable, but he also knew his young employee would do everything within her power to get it done.

As expected, Victoria nodded slowly. "Um. Yes sir. As soon as possible." And with that she disappeared from the office.

He listened to the succession of her footsteps on the hardwood floors. Then he stood up, drawing a sports coat over his button-down. Perhaps it was time to pay a visit to his old friends at the Trust.

* * *

Victoria waited until her boss had closed the front door behind him before smoothing out her slightly too-small skirt in relief. While there could be no mistaking the perks in her new job (after two paychecks Victoria was able to pay off the rent for her apartment, buy all her necessities, and have extra left over for more appropriate clothes for work), she couldn't say she was fond of her boss. Smaug was unappealingly slimy towards her, which left her constantly on edge when he was around.

And then there was the question of her latest assignment. While he had assured her countless times that spying on other companies was perfectly legal, Victoria was doubtful how much of his words were true. She didn't understand the big deal behind the Durin Trust agency anyway; they were a small office in a poor location, hardly competition against London's biggest insurance coverer. She tried not to think about it. Whatever brought in the paychecks.

She folded her arms over her hips, trying to puzzle out his profile request. She supposed she could go to IT about it; those guys were nice to her, and much smarter in the field of surveillance equipment and videos. Happy to have at least a temporary solution, Victoria sauntered down the rows of busy cubicles to the IT department next door.

Smaug Enterprises technically owned two buildings, with a floor set aside for each department. To make travel between buildings easier, doors had been installed at regular intervals in the walls, flanked on either side by a keypad. For optimal security, the passcodes changed at the beginning of every week, which was a trial when crossing between buildings in a hurry. Victoria stumbled over the unfamiliar code, which she had been issued upon arrival to work that morning, and pushed quickly at the heavy door when her code was received.

"Applegate! Back so soon?" Dean, one of the many techies working for Smaug, greeted his friend with a smile and a wave. The two had been hired at the same time, and thus stuck close together for the first few weeks of their new jobs. They'd both managed to find other friendly acquaintances around the office, but they still tried to talk whenever they could.

"Don't look so upset, Reynolds," Victoria teased, discretely checking her hair in the reflective surface of the IT coffee pot. She teetered over to the machine not a second after, keen on some caffeine.

"Are we going to be spy kids again? What's the mission this time?" Dean chuckled, leaning back against his desk to watch her. Victoria felt her cheeks go slightly pink, thankful she was hidden from his view. It was both a blessing and a curse that her closest friend here was attractive.

She sighed, filling a paper mug to the brim before turning back to him. "Yup. Is there any way you can take the footage and make a profile of that guy we couldn't account for?"

Dean raised an eyebrow. "I can try. Say, Vicky, could you get me a cup of that?"

"_Victoria," _she chided, pouring an identical cup for him. Dean barely noticed her correction, however. His gaze fixated on his computer.

"What are you doing?" she asked, coming to look over his shoulder. Dean grinned.

"Watching the surveillance of this morning. The random guy was in the office for a bit. If I could get a clear shot…" Mouth twisted in concentration, Dean fiddled with the controls on his machine, oblivious to everything else around him.

"You going to tell me what you're doing?"

Dean didn't even spare her a glance. "No."

Well. Arms folded, Victoria made her way back to her cubicle, downing the rest of the lukewarm coffee in one swallow. Dean could send her the profiles later.

She'd barely sat down again when the phone rang shrilly, causing several other workers to look up from their desks. Feeling the heat rush to her cheeks, she grabbed the phone and held it to her ear, shooting apologetic glances around the room.

"Good morning, this is Victoria from Smaug Enterprises. How may I be of assistance?"

"Have you gotten the profile?" A deep voice answered.

She sighed. "Not yet, Mr. Smaug. IT is working on it, and with any luck I'll have it by the end of the day."

He grunted into the receiver, seemingly passive about the issue. Something metal jangled close to the receiver. "Good. Great. Would it be too much trouble to ask you to do some fieldwork this afternoon?"

* * *

Bilbo, Thorin, and the rest of Durin Trust gathered around a long wooden table, all thoughts of the Lime Street office soon forgotten. The office was under attack, it seemed. Old enemies had learned new tricks. And Bilbo, to his disdain, was the first to be shot at.

Kili relayed the story to a group of thirteen, unable to help himself pausing for dramatic effect here and there.

"I cannot say this is completely unexpected," Thorin admitted, shooting a glance to Bilbo, who occupied the seat to his right. "I thought, however, that I would be the primary target, as my father and grandfather were before me. I never even considered the rest of you."

"How would Smaug know Bilbo worked for us? D'you suppose he keeps spies hanging out the windows or something?" Kili asked. "Shall we check the flower pots, then?"

His older brother nudged him, a mischievous smirk on his face.

Thorin's expression remained serious. "Ah. So you think this is funny. Did you know there are _thousands _of ways – all legal and perfectly safe – which Smaug could employ to ensure that every single member of this company is ruined… or worse?"

"It was just some fun," Fili muttered, slumping into his seat. His uncle studied the pair for a long while, and Bilbo could have sworn he saw a hint of tenderness across the man's hardened features.

"Well, what can you do now?" Bilbo asked, taking advantage of the silence. "No matter how he found out, it seems he knows now. Which means I am at risk. Which means the rest of oyu may also be at risk."

"He's right," Balin agreed. The company had been quiet thus far, but at the old man's words, the table broke out in a chorus voices.

"I think –"

"D'you reckon –"

"Damn Smaug –"

"All of you be quiet!" Thorin roared, slamming his fist onto the table with a loud _clonk. _At once, the group sobered, watching their boss with respect and fear.

He turned first to Bilbo. "You will go to Gandalf immediately. As I suspect you are still staying with him, his apartment is going to be a sitting target until we get this mess cleaned up."

Bilbo gulped. He hadn't even thought of Gandalf.

"It may be useful to get Gandalf in the office," Balin offered tentatively. Bilbo thought about what Gandalf had told him: that he worked for Durin Trust for three years, there to witness both its glory and its destruction. Afterward, he'd done some traveling before coming back to London to see how his friends were faring.

Thorin nodded his head, his gaze falling on the speaker. "I trust you, Mr. Balin, will take on the task of convincing Gandalf to come should Mr. Baggins fail.

"Fili, Kili, I need you to do some fieldwork. Dig up all you can on Smaug Enterprises; meet a few of the employees if possible. It's crucial you stay unrecognized: if Smaug knows Bilbo, he definitely knows you two."

Bilbo drifted into a haze as Thorin assigned the rest of his employees with extra-credit fieldwork here and there, at times completely disregarding the fact that he had a company of his own to run. Always a peace-loving creature, Bilbo couldn't fathom why Smaug would want to inflict more damage on an already-dying company. It definitely wasn't playing by the rules, that was for sure.

"Everyone clear?" Thorin asked. Fourteen heads nodded simultaneously.

"Good." The dark-haired man leaned back in his seat. "If Smaug wants to play with fire, we'll all burn together."

* * *

**A/N: Thanks so much for al the positive feedback I've gotten thus far! I'll try and make somewhat regular updates, as often as possible.**

**For all the Kili/Tauriel shippers out there, sorry. Tauriel won't be a major part of the story for quite a few chapters. Hang in there, though! She ****_will _****be arriving at some point.**

**How do you like the new characters? As always, please review or PM me with any questions/concerns/compliments, etc. **

**-Drew :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**3**

Victoria was a nervous nail biter, and had been since childhood. Her teenaged years to this day evoked a sense of disappointment: whilst her friends got together to shop and paint each other's fingers with brightly colored polish, Victoria preferred to stay at home, getting a head start on her homework and chewing her cuticles to shreds. She admired her own work ethic, but could do without the unattractive nail beds.

Since Mr. Smaug had assigned her that extensive field assignment the previous day, Victoria hadn't been able to stop biting. Worst-case scenarios plagued her dreams and muddled her morning hours. She'd gone along with all of her boss's plans in the past, yes, but she was _sure_ faking her identity was at least a minor crime. Not that it seemed to matter to Smaug.

Once more Victoria reviewed the notes he had emailed her, muttering the strange names and places in the hopes of gaining more authenticity. She was now Celine Vanderbilt, living in London on an economics degree. She'd recently buried her dear old grandmother– Smaug had been so good as to provide her with the necessary documentation, including someone's death certificate– and with this misfortune in mind had finally decided to invest in some good life insurance.

"Celine Vanderbilt," she chanted, over and over. "I am Celine Vanderbilt."

She glanced at the dimmed screen of her cell phone. Twenty minutes to ten.

* * *

Fili sighed, staring blankly at the screensaver of his incredibly slow desktop computer. How long ago had he arrived at the office? A glance at the clock told him it was almost twenty minutes.

The days passed so quietly, now that Durin Trust was short on clients. Fili could remember how wonderful things had been a decade before. He was a minor at the time, and a cocky one at that. He'd grown up surrounded by fraud claims and numbers– a shot at working in one of the biggest agencies in the world naturally appealed to him. More than that, he felt entitled to the job.

Fili was the first to admit it was harder than he thought, navigating through grueling university courses broken only by equally annoying part-time jobs and the occasional night at the pub. He'd tried to enjoy his youth, knowing how things would change as soon as he was hired, and he was right.

Sometimes, in the darkest recesses of his mind, Fili envied Kili for his endless stream of hyperactivity. After a nine-hour work day, all Fili wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep for eternity.

The office phone rang shrilly, disrupting the comfortable silence that floated between cubicles. Heads turned up in surprise, eyes blinking owlishly in the harsh glare of fluorescent lighting.

"Nori, get that, will you?" grumbled Gloin, whose desk was just opposite Fili's. His space was rather nicer furnished, complete with pictures of his wife and young son, Gimli.

Nori grunted, slowly inching towards the phone. Fili wondered if he would actually make it in time, at the pace he was moving at.

"Durin Trust main office, Nori speaking. How may I be of help?" He sneakily put the caller on speakerphone, broadcasting the sounds of breathing to everyone in the office.

"Hello, this is, um… Celine. Celine Vanderbilt. I'm looking for some help creating insurance." Celine Vanderbilt had a nice voice, her British accent upper crust and softly hiding what sounded like an American drawl. Fili minimized his server window, more interested in the potential client than online solitaire. It was cute that she thought one 'created' insurance.

"Pleased to meet you Celine," Nori replied. His younger brother Ori, one of the two IT guys, rolled his eyes. "And what kind of insurance are you interested in?"

There was a pause. "Oh. I was thinking life insurance. My Nanna just died, you see…"

Nori mumbled apologetically. "I'm sorry for your loss. It should be no problem to find you a quality package as soon as possible… would you prefer meeting with one of our agents personally, or handling the business electronically?"

A second pause, longer than the first. "In person sounds fine."

Fili smiled in spite of himself. He happened to be one of the most charismatic agents in the office.

"Very good. The address is 371 Lime Street. Do you require further direction?"

"No, thanks. Can we make this appointment later today? I've got a rather busy schedule, I'm afraid."

Nori shot a backwards glance to Fili. The blonde nodded, a smile finding its way onto his face.

The older man smirked. "Is twelve thirty a good time?"

"Perfect," Celine replied. Fili tried to imagine what she looked like. Probably blonde. Definitely his type. This would be a fun job.

"Very well. My agent will meet you then. Thank you, and have a nice day." As the phone clicked back into the receiver, the office fell into silence. The calm before the storm, it turned out.

"Why does Fili always get the good-looking ones?" Bofur complained. He was a bit older than the blonde agent, and for whatever reason insisted on wearing a floppy-eared hat everywhere, even indoors.

"Because I'm better looking than you," Fili teased, giving himself a long look in the reflection of the computer monitor. He'd seen better, but not in this office. "Besides, how d'you even know she's pretty?"

Bofur shrugged. "Just a feeling. Nice voice."

Gloin scoffed. It was his favorite pastime, making fun of the single men in the office at every chance he got. "Obviously someone's forgetting Donna Chapel. Voice of an angel, that one."

The others laughed, but secretly reconsidered Bofur's previous words.

"What about your field work for Thorin?" Bofur asked finally, breaking the awkward silence. Fili quirked an eyebrow.

"What about it?"

"Well, how are you planning on finding time to go incognito around the Enterprise if you're too busy shagging one of our customers?"

Fili blushed. No one had said anything about shagging.

"You worry about your own assignments, mate," he said defensively. "I think I can handle mine just fine, thanks."

Bofur shrugged his disappointment away. It was clear he had lost this battle, and no one hated a fight more than he. "Hey, don't come back and haunt me when you've managed to work yourself to death."

* * *

Victoria checked her reflection in the small mirror at the reception of Smaug Enterprises. She was meeting with the agent from Durin Trust in less than half an hour, and like a silly schoolgirl she'd spent nearly that long making sure she looked okay. She sucked in her stomach, wishing yet again that she'd worn the prim little navy blue dress instead of the flouncy skirt and button-down.

At least her hair looked okay. She'd straitened it with this meeting in mind, allowing the normally wavy strands of strawberry blonde to fall flat against her back, pinned back on one side with a butterfly clip. And her makeup had been done to perfection– years of school and work had taught Victoria to apply liquid eyeliner with a light hand and mascara with a heavy one. She wore no lipstick, believing it accentuated her mouth– too large, in her opinion.

"Where're you headed off to?" the receptionist Diane inquired. Victoria tore her eyes away from her reflection and shot the woman a small grin. They'd never been the best of friends, but they were friendly enough.

"Oh, some extra work for Mr. Smaug," she said nonchalantly, deciding it was time to make her exit. Teetering in a pair of higher-than-average heels, Victoria pushed open the frosted glass doors of the Enterprise, headed for the tube stop that would take her directly to Lime Street and her poor, unsuspecting agent.

* * *

The Lime Street office was a single-floored, cozy space on the third floor of an old apartment building. Beneath it, a kindly old dermatologist kept office, keeping the stairwells acceptably clean all times of the year. Her neighbors seldom saw the building's other renter, an artist who converted her floor into a studio, though occasionally pieces of her art hung in the hallways.

Fili arrived at Lime Street early to do some cleaning. Predictably, the place had accumulated dust since its last use. He swore loudly as, yet again, he stubbed his toe on the desk leg while vacuuming the pale carpet.

The large clock above the front door read twelve twenty-five. Within minutes, Celine Vanderbilt would be sitting in the plump customer's chair, directly across the desk from him. Fili couldn't help a shock of anticipation running through his veins, wasting no time in chastising himself for it. Kili pleaded time and time again for his brother to go clubbing with him, but Fili always made his excuses. Hey, collapsing on the couch with some reruns of the Office and Chinese takeout wasn't a bad way to end the stressful workweek. One the downside, his preferred Friday night activities meant he hadn't seen anyone in almost two years, since his college girlfriend took a job in Dublin.

The front bell buzzed, startling Fili from his thoughts. She was here. He slicked back his hair once more– it was starting to get uncomfortably long– and hit the button on his intercom that unlocked the front door, letting her into the building.

"Sorry I'm late," the woman called as she ascended up the staircase, even though she wasn't. Fili smirked to himself, making himself comfortable in the desk chair.

"No worries," he replied, hoping his voice was cool and professional.

His eyes immediately sought hers as she made her way through the door. They were brown, but not boringly so– even from this distance, he noticed the flecks of gray-green and the makeup present but not smeared over her lids.

Next his eyes traveled down her nose– a straight, serious, slanting structure– to her lips, which curled into a tiny smile. Without thinking, he returned the gesture.

"I'm afraid I never did catch your name on the phone earlier," Celine Vanderbilt stated awkwardly, taking a hesitant step in the direction of the desk. Fili stopped smiling, realizing too late he probably looked either creepy or over-friendly, and gestured to the seat across from him, standing up to offer her a handshake.

"I never gave it. Fili Oreson, at your service." He almost dropped into an exaggerated bow, but thought better of it. His surname, as always, left a sort of sour taste in Fili's mouth. He'd tried so hard to live up to the standards of a dead man.

Celine smiled again, bearing a set of mildly crooked teeth. Her hand felt like jelly in Fili's large, rough palm. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Oreson."

"No need for formalities. Just Fili will be fine," Fili informed her, ignoring how unprofessional it sounded. He decided he liked her smile.

* * *

**A/N: Hiya guys! I was sick with the stomach flu last week (can you say fun?!) so I apologize for the delayed update. Here we have some Victoria/Fili action... though I'm not sure I want them as my Fili/OC pairing yet. What do you think?**

**Thanks so much for my readers so far! Reading your reviews and seeing that you're enjoying my story truly makes my day! As always, feel free to leave comments, questions, compliments, criticism... no flames though.**

**-Drew**


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